


Celestial Countenance

by Mcgt



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcgt/pseuds/Mcgt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when your life is all going downhill, the only place left to go is up. What if that place isn't exactly where Bella thinks? Perhaps, a more heavenly destination instead? A story about life, love and redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where is the Light?   - Tropical Isle Prompt

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Thank you to TwilightMomofTwo & LilRedScientist for her amazing beta skills and to Jenequilter for prereading this for me. Any additional mistakes are all my own.
> 
> This story is going to be a bit of a mystery, allow it to unfold & hopefully enjoy. I really love where this is going, so hang in there with me, okay?

** Celestial Countenance **

**Chapter 1 – Tropical Isle – Where’s the Light?**

You know when people say you see a light at the end of a dark tunnel after you die?  That there’s an angel there to escort you to the pearly gates, and all your loved ones that passed on before you are waiting with their faces squeezed in to the bars like a jailhouse welcoming committee?

Well, my experience wasn’t like that at all.

In fact, I’m still pretty fuzzy about what really happened.  One minute I was lamenting my life, how the downturn in the economy had really hurt my tiny bookstore café along with my shit-ass ex-boyfriend who’d left me the previous week, taking all my life’s savings with him. 

I’d been hoodwinked into believing that Eugene Aronofsky, or Aro for short was my soul mate.  He was the perfect gentleman.  He liked the same things I liked.  Got along with my friends, and even my mom, who doesn’t like anyone, thought he was great.  All that ended quickly when I went to my little apartment and found it in shambles.  My TV, my computer and anything else that had any value to it was gone.  Along with all the money I’d been saving to finally buy a house and make the necessary upgrades my little store needed. 

Poof. 

Gone. 

No note, no nothing.

My dad, a retired cop, was angry at himself for not seeing through the guy.  The police said they’d seen similar cases in the last few years; cases that involved men who targeted a very specific type of woman.  I listened casually as they continued rambling on and on about the types of victims selected for these schemes, still convinced that I was too smart to fall victim to someone like that.

Lonely _. Check._

Introverted _. Check._

Naive _. Check._

Easily manipulated _. Check._

Too trusting _. Check._

Overwhelmed _. Check._

Gullible _. Check._

Inexperienced with men _. Check_.

Looking for someone to take care of them. _Check._

Each time a new adjective was used to describe another victim, I retreated further and further into my shell, knowing everything they said was true.  I _was_ all of the above. And because of that, my life was ruined.

I’d spent the bulk of my adult life focused on one thing:  getting my little shop up and running.  I worked seven days a week, and only took the major holidays off. Even on those days, though, I thought about the store.

I poured in all my blood, sweat, tears and ultimately every spare penny I had.  The only exception was the ten thousand dollars I had sitting in my bank account waiting for me to find the perfect little house to buy.  With the recession, I had narrowed down my choices and was only a week or so away from buying something when Aro took it all away from me.  He knew once that money was gone; I would be essentially flat broke until I could rebuild my nest egg.  Apparently he didn’t want to be left empty handed and took off just as we talked about maybe moving in together.  I’d completely forgotten I gave him the Pin to my account when he went to the grocery store for me the previous week.  It never occurred to me that giving him that type of access would be my doom.

Bastard.

I didn’t really have friends whom I could call and ask for help.  I liked Angela and Esme, but I would never feel comfortable telling them all about my problems.  I was their boss, not their gossipy best friend.

Ever since my dad had gotten hurt on the job, my parents weren’t much better off than I was right now.  I didn’t need them digging into their retirement fund to help their stupid daughter.

I had been raised to be proud and independent. I couldn’t handle the world knowing what I fool I’d been; I was so embarrassed by my poor choice, my vulnerability, hell - the whole situation. Running back to my parents was so not an option.

I remembered sitting in the window booth in my little café, after closing time trying to figure out how I was going to pay my next bill, my rent, my suppliers, my two employees and which one would be lucky enough to be paid first. On top of that, how I was going to survive if I went bankrupt? That led to the idea that perhaps life would just be easier if I just stopped living all together.  Say, crawl into a hole where no one would miss me and sleep off the rest of my days.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Here’s where things got a bit cloudy.  I remembered grabbing my ledger and my purse, thinking I should probably head home before it got too dark out for the long walk home. 

Yes, walk. 

The bastard had even taken my car, which they found stripped sitting in an abandoned warehouse parking lot near the Port of Seattle.  The insurance company was still working that out, but since it was an old Honda, I doubted it was going to be worth much when they finally did come to a decision. 

My life was just a ball of sunshine and a basket full of kittens, right?

But that was then. 

Now? 

Now, I find myself strolling on a beautiful white sand beach. The warm salty wind blowing through my hair and I’m more relaxed than I think I’ve ever been.

Yep, this apparently is _my_ version of heaven. 

It makes sense that after living in the rainy Pacific Northwest for the majority of my life, heaven would appear like a tropical isle.  While I can’t exactly remember what happened in between me being pissed at the world and me finding myself in the great beyond, I am thankful one of the myths about eternal life was right. 

I met an angel. A rather cantankerous one, but an angel all the same.

He appears before me, a hulking sort of man who seems to be glowing from within. His dark hair shines in the bright sunlight, and his eyes are a deep sparkling blue and are shockingly beautiful against this dark coloring.

“My name is Alistair and I’m here to take care of you,” his booming voice calls out to me from across the sandy expanse.

“Where am I and what am I doing here?” I ask, or at least I thought I did.  Wherever I am, it appears like you can speak telepathically or something because it feels like this Alistair angel guy is speaking from right beside me even though he’s still yards away.

“It seems you have little regard for your life… Isabella Swan.  You’re lucky.  It could have been much worse if that incompetent dolt James had been assigned to you.”  His slight British accent is bordering on being snotty and condescending, and it irks me that it feels like he’s speaking around me, rather than to me. But since I’m obviously stuck with him, I have little choice but to listen to the man and hopefully learn what I am doing here.

“I certainly hope you develop a better sense of self-preservation than you’ve had in the past.” His deep voice rings in my ears.

Looking up at him, his train of thought confuses me.  If he isn’t going to explain anything to me, then I might as well make myself comfortable.  If I was dead, I really wanted to get on with my afterlife, especially if it included piῇa coladas and a body that would never be sunburned again.

I mean, I wanted a way out from all of my problems, and it seemed like God had answered my prayers.  Now if only I could get a cabana boy to deliver me cocktails, and maybe a good massage, it really would be heaven.

Just as I laid down on the comfy chaise lounge overlooking the crystal clear blue ocean, I was interrupted by Alistair.

Of course.

“Well, you’ll soon come to find out that perhaps you were all wrong about your life.  It is, after all, all about perception.  And unfortunately for you, I have a feeling it was a rather skewed one at that.  Now if you’ll excuse me, your first visitor has arrived.  How lucky for you.” 

 

  



	2. Tappa, Tappa, Tappa   - Ballet Studio Prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twilight Twenty-Five  
> thetwilight25[dot]com  
> Prompt: Ballet Studio  
> Pen Name: Mcgt  
> Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella  
> Rating: M  
> This will be a multi-chaptered story.  
> Photo prompts can be viewed here: thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
> 
> A/N  
> Thanks to Lacrimosa Moon for helping beta this for me and Jenequilter for her prereader skills.

**Chapter 2 – Ballet Studio – Tappa Tappa Tappa**

My warm, sunshiny beach suddenly morphed into the streets of Forks. 

I could see my mother, twenty years younger, clutching my tiny hand as I tapped my way down the rainy sidewalk to dance class.  The rain didn’t stop me from wearing my beloved tap shoes, even though my mother said they would rust if I wore them in the wet weather. She could barely pry those shoes off my feet when it was time for bed.

I ghosted behind them as I watched my six-year-old self enjoy life so fully.  There I was, in my bright yellow rain slicker, stomping loudly from one puddle into another, laughing gleefully even though my mother frowned, chiding me for getting muddy water all over her pants. 

Turning the corner, I could see the Adagio Ballet and Dance Center coming into view.  The neon sign was lit up like a beacon through the nearly constant gray and drizzle-filled days.

“Come on, sweetie, we need to get you changed and those shoes dried off before class begins,” she said, pulling open the door and shuttling my miniature self into the building.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what this scene had to do with my visitor nor with my life flashing before my eyes.  This memory looked like just another day in my otherwise boring and average life.

Since it seemed that Alistair had decided to leave me to figure this out all on my own, I followed them into the building just in time to see my mom over at the sign-in desk, and my tiny form peeking into the window of the ballet studio where a lone girl was practicing her pirouettes.

“No! Keep your eyes focused.  You’re not paying attention,” Miss Tanya, the ballet instructor, shouted at the young girl, causing her lip to quiver.

I’d tried to take ballet about a year ago, but was so bad at it that Miss Tanya told my mother not to bring me back until I learned some grace.  Needless to say, she signed me up for something that required a little less poise. Miss Elena was a lot nicer and seemed to enjoy teaching kids, unlike the drill instructor in the next room.

“Bella, come on, we still need to change,” my mom called out from behind me.

Still baffled, I just floated behind them while my mom helped me change into my dance clothes and followed as they went into the studio.

“Welcome class.  Let’s begin with our usual warm up. And remember, stickers for the best form!” Miss Elena called out from the front of the class as we all began tapping out the series of steps she had us memorize on our first day.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a frail little girl was gently nudged inside. The girl’s mother stood behind her, encouraging her to join the class.

“Ah, you must be Tori. Welcome, sweetie,” Miss Tanya said as she ushered the girl inside. She introduced her to the class and said she was one of the scholarship recipients and that it was her first day. 

Like a light bulb, this memory of little Tori resurfaced in a flash, helping me to remember what happened that day.

The dance studio had wanted to give out scholarships to worthy kids in the community who couldn’t afford the classes otherwise.  Tori had been in my grade at school and was known to be from the old mobile home park near the freeway where many of the logging families lived.

The girl looked terrified as she stood off to the side in her sneaker-clad feet.  Her shirt had a picture of a faded iron-on unicorn and her jeans appeared about two sizes too big for her.  I knew she had an older sister, and I figured they were probably hand me downs.

I watched as my six- year-old self walked up to Tori and bluntly asked her where her shoes were.  Of course like most children, you asked the obvious question, regardless of how awkward it might make the other person.

Tori just stood, her hair dangling down in front of her face as she looked at the floor. She mumbled that the only shoes she owned were the ones she was wearing.

Miss Elena placed Tori into the line beside me, and asked me to help her learn the steps of the warm-up exercises while she looked in the back closet to see if she had any old shoes lying around that would fit her.

Only a few moments into my attempt at explaining a shuffle-ball chain, our teacher returned empty handed.  Walking up to the two of us she explained, “We’ll make sure you have a pair of shoes for next class, okay?”  I’m not sure what compelled me, but I whipped off my tap shoes, for the first time since I’d woken up that morning, and handed them to the girl.

“Here.  There’s nothing better than the sound of tap shoes on the floor.” 

Tori tilted her head to the side, looking baffled by the gesture.

“Go on, put them on,” my tiny-self  encouraged, putting her foot right next to Tori’s and saying they looked the same.

I watched as Tori’s face brightened when she looked at the grin plastered all over my young face. She tugged off her old battered sneakers and put on my shiny black tap shoes.  She shyly tapped at first before exploding into a difficult routine.

Miss Elena bent down to me, whispering conspiratorially that this is why the girl had been chosen for the scholarship.  She’d been putting bottle caps on the bottom of her sneakers and tapping on a piece of plywood she’d found thrown by the dumpster near where she lived.

I muddled through class in just my socks, watching in awe as Tori mastered the routine we were learning before anyone else in the class.

At the end of class, Tori wandered over, handing me back my shoes and thanking me for being so nice to her.

Putting them back on, I watched as Tori talked to Miss Elena and her mom, pointing in my six-year-old self’s direction.  She was telling them about what I had done.  They both beamed, telling me how generous I was, and that they wouldn’t forget such a kind gesture.

Tori and I tapped away the rest of the summer in our class.  But when her father was laid off from the lumberyard, she’d been forced to move away. I never knew what became of her.

I was about to follow my mother and my mini-me out of the ballet studio when suddenly, gone was the neon sign and instead a poster of STOMP! featuring Tori Chambers took its place.

She’d made it to Broadway.

“Your generosity helped kick start the dream of that young girl.”

I jumped, startled by the sound of Alistair’s voice. I turned and there he stood with a smug look on his face.

“I still don’t think this made my life complete or anything.  I mean, woo hoo,” I cheered sarcastically, waving my finger in the air. “So what, if I shared my tap shoes and _all_ her dreams came true.  Yay for her.  It’s not like she ever came into my shop and bought a book or a latte.  Now _that_ could have helped me out.” I mumbled, feeling sorry for myself once again.

Exhaling a heavy sigh and shaking his head, Alistair told me to rest for a while before meeting my next visitor.

I blinked and found myself back at my sunny tropical beach, all by lonesome. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N   
> Thanks so much for reading.


	3. I'll Stand By You - Police Station Prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twilight Twenty-Five  
> thetwilight25[dot]com  
> Prompt: Police Station  
> Pen Name: Mcgt  
> Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella  
> Rating: M  
> This will be a multi-chaptered story.  
> Photo prompts can be viewed here: thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
> 
> A/N  
> Thanks to LittleRedScientist for helping beta this for me and Jenequilter for her prereader skills.

** Chapter 3 –I’ll Stand By You- Police Station Prompt **

Kicking back, I was basking in the warm sunshine wishing that I had my favorite book to keep me company.

Poof – there it was.

My favorite detective novel I’d read over and over was perched in my lap available for my reading pleasure. 

Ah, now _this_ was the life.

I put my sunglasses on and began reading the book I’d basically already memorized. As much as I wanted to be absorbed back into the plot, I couldn’t help but think about my current predicament. I had to wonder, what else was there?  I was all by myself, nothing but the calming whoosh of the ocean to keep me company and the occasional Alistair pop-ins.  Other than that, I was pretty much left to my own devices.

Why was I stuck here all alone, when every tale I’d ever heard about near death experiences had the light and the tunnel and the family and friends?  Why was I stuck here on this isle?  Perhaps as nice as it was, it was my own version of purgatory.

Was I doomed to sit on this beach and lament every stupid, boneheaded thing I managed to do during my lifetime?  Is that what Alistair meant by my skewed perception of my life?

Where had I gone wrong?

Well, aside from my singular focus on my shop and my obvious poor judge of character, I wasn’t exactly sure where I’d gone so far astray. Or how I’d managed to mess up my life so completely in only a matter of 28 years.

Perhaps dying really was the best thing that could have happened to me, right?

“You’re really overthinking things.” Alistair popped up beside me, putting up his hand to ward off the sun’s glare.

“Really?  Well if you would actually tell me why I’m sitting on this beach with no one but me, myself,  and I, then perhaps I wouldn’t have to.”

“Are you ready for your next visitor?  Have you rested enough?” he asked, completely ignoring my question.  And for the first time since I met him, he looked genuinely concerned.

“Fine, fine.  Who is it this time and what do they want now?”  Sighing, I pulled my sunglasses down to look directly into Alistair’s eyes.  Hoping he’s shed some kind of light on all of this.

“I’ll see you in a bit.  Enjoy your visit,” he said, vanishing from sight.

I shook my head in wonder and could only wait impatiently for whatever was going to happen.

Abruptly my sandy expanse of beach morphed into the front of the Forks Police Department.  It was another grey day, like the last vision I had only this time, the rain seemed to be holding off, at least temporarily. I wasn’t sure if this vision was before or after that had happened to him.

It looked like my mom must have forced me into bringing him his dinner since I was carrying a large grocery bag in one arm and a thermos in the other filled with what he always said was the best coffee in town. 

Pulling the door open I followed myself into the building as I headed back towards my dad’s desk.

The station wasn’t very big so it wasn’t hard to find.

There he was, standing up, a crutch under one arm while the other struggled to put away some folder in the top drawer of the cabinet.

I watched as my teen-self rushed over, setting down his dinner and grabbed the folder from dad reminding him that he was supposed to be resting the leg, not standing on it.

“I was just putting away the files that had stacked up when I was out.  Not like anyone else in here’s going to do it.”  He sounded so gruff and defeated.  I knew his demotion to desk duty was like someone taking a sledge hammer to his self-confidence but this was just sad to watch.

“Dad come on, sit down.  Mom made lasagna and coffee.  Eat it while it’s still hot and I’ll file these for you, okay?”

He did as he was told, grumbling the entire time about how he wasn’t an invalid and could do it by himself.

They both chatted contentedly back and forth joking about my dad’s bum leg and how he’s gotten out of mowing the lawn for the foreseeable future.

“Thanks a lot dad. If I chop off one of my toes in a freak mowing incident, I’m blaming you,” my teen-self teased him, making him smile for the first time all night.

“I’ll be back to mowing the yard and doing all the other things on your mom’s honey-do-list as soon as I can.  Trust me; these crutches make my pits sore.”

Once I’d finished filing, I asked him if there was anything else he needed me to do.

“Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night then spend it with your old man?”

I smiled broadly, leaning down to give him a big hug, whispering in his ear, “Nope, I figured you might like some company on your first night back.”

Wrapping me up in his burly arms, he hugged me fiercely before vowing to kick my butt in gin rummy before the night was out.

On our third hand he finally asked, “Your mom put you up to this, right?”

He didn’t want to believe that I actually wanted to hang out with him. 

I observed myself place my winning cards down on the table replying, “Nope.  Honest dad.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And it was the truth.  I remembered how terrified I was when the call came in that my dad had been shot.  I vowed to spend more time with him because sometimes in life you just never knew.

They, well… me?  No I?  This vision thing was messing with my mind a little bit. 

As his shift wore down, they greeted Officer Grandby before taking their leave for the night. 

Picking up his bag, I held the door for him as he hobbled out towards my old car.  Before getting in he leaned onto the roof and said, “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.  I’m not sure how I’m going to manage spending every evening at the station, but you made the transition bearable.”  Dipping his head in embarrassment he thanked me and got in, pulling the crutches in after him.

I stood on the sidewalk watching as they drove off towards home.  The first of many Friday nights I’d spend playing gin rummy with my dad.

“See, you have a big heart.  You just need to remember to use it more often,” Alistair chided, waving his arms and making the entire scene disappear.

“Now rest.  I’m sure tomorrow will be a busy one.”

There I stood.  On my now darkened beach, a hammock swinging in the breeze between two trees just waiting for me to lie down and drift off to sleep.

With little else to do in the waning light I crawled in and allowed myself to drift off into darkness.  Still completely confused as to what the hell was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you’re still with me on this story. I’d love to hear your thoughts and theories.   
> By the way, I posted a new Original Fiction short piece on my blog titled, Conquering Rapids – A little short story about what happens when a Divorcee meets her match on a four day rafting trip down the Royal Gorge. I love these characters a lot and am actually considering expanding the story to a full length original fiction story. Your feedback might help make up my mind.  
> You can check out my blog at http:// mcgt2008.blogspot.com/


	4. Strangers in the Night - Cottage Prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twilight Twenty-Five  
> thetwilight25[dot]com  
> Prompt: Cottage  
> Pen Name: Mcgt  
> Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella  
> Rating: M  
> This will be a multi-chaptered story.  
> Photo prompts can be viewed here: thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
> 
> A/N  
> Thanks to LittleRedScientist for helping beta this for me and Jenequilter for her prereader skills.

**Chapter 4 –Strangers in the Night- Cottage**

My mind was adrift into nothingness.  It was consumed by darkness and the soothing whooshing sound that I’d been so accustomed to hearing since I got here.

A scraping noise startled me and I slowly peered out of one eye to see if perhaps Alistair was lurking about to send me on another stupid vision quest where I’d learn nothing useful towards getting me off this freaking island.

There was a man sitting beside me and instead of my hammock I was now lying in a bed made of soft cotton, a handmade quilt wrapped up over my shoulders as I curled into my side.  It looked like the inside of a tiny cottage from one of my favorite fairytales come to life.

The man’s face was fuzzy, the kind you can’t quite picture when you’re having a fabulous dream and only want to know who the mystery man is. Whoever he was, his voice was soft and deep.  It was as if the ocean lapping on the shore had morphed into a man.  His presence brought me nothing but comfort yet I had no idea who he was or why he was here.

Perhaps he was another visitor, one that Alistair just forgot to announce his arrival?

Whatever the reason, I remained silent allowing his soothing aura to completely envelope me.

I could faintly hear him mumbling angrily to himself and wished that he would speak up and tell me what was wrong.  For some reason it seemed extremely important for me to help him, but before I had the chance to do anything, he began speaking.

“You know when you’re little and you imagine your life… that it’s going to be this spectacular event where you succeed in everything and you marry the perfect person.  And then you grow up and after a while you get cynical and your dreams begin to fade.  Eventually leaving you with nothing but a brittle skeleton of what it once was.  And by the time you realize it, you’re just left with a big steaming pile of woulda, coulda, shouldas?”

My eyes never left his mouth; it was the only thing I could focus on.  His teeth were straight and almost obnoxiously white.  His lips were full, a day’s worth of stubble ran across his chiseled jaw and I was mesmerized by the way his mouth moved as he talked.  The bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed after ending a sentence were all completely arousing to me.

I only wished the haze surrounding the top of his head would cease allowing to really see who he was.

Nodding my head, I burrowed deeper into the covers hoping he would continue speaking.

“My life was supposed to be mapped out for me.  I was tracking towards being the best and the brightest of my class, but somehow my own cocky attitude ruined everything.  Instead of finishing first, I was lucky to graduate.  I ended up _here_ of all places.” His voice sounded sad, lonely, with the twinge of bitterness.  Like he too had experienced all the crap that life piled on to you when you least expected it. 

Pulling my hand out from beneath the blanket I grasped his hand, squeezing it twice, and hoping he’d understand my silent empathy for him.

He continued talking in riddles about the many mistakes he regretted and how things were finally starting to look up, when boom. 

Today happened.

 And now here he was trying to atone for a lifetime of sins.

“Of all the days to meet you, why did it need to be today?  Why couldn’t it have been before?” he asked, like the weight of the world had just pounded him into the ground.  The defeat was so palpable I could see his vulnerability in his posture, the way his head hung low, shoulders slumped forward. 

I craved to reach out, to comfort him but resisted.  I still didn’t know who he was and that thought frightened me a bit.  I wanted to scream “before what?” but couldn’t form the words.

His thumb had been gently rubbing over the back of my hand the entire time he was talking making my skin prickle with heat from his touch.  It’d been so long since anyone had made me feel so cherished. Even in my brief time with Aro, he’d never made me feel like this stranger had.

We sat together in silence for what felt like a long time, the feel of his thumb on my hand and the whooshing of the ocean brought me both peace and comfort.  I closed my eyes just wishing that this was one visit would last forever.  That this man would stay beside me as I figured out all the crap that was going on around me.

Hearing the chair as it scraped across the wood floor of the cottage I watched as the man stood, kissing my hand gently before placing it back under the covers.

Leaning down he whispered in my ear, “I know what’s happened to you.  And I’m sorry.  I didn’t intend to pry but it was there, and I looked.  I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it.  Your story is different yet so similar to my own.  I needed to meet you.” 

I was so confused by his confession, wishing I could stand and ask him what he was talking about but my body felt tied down, completely unresponsive to my attempts.

“I’m sorry.” With a kiss to my forehead he told me he’d be back tomorrow before gliding out of the cottage leaving me all alone to ponder our connection.

Why did God keep doing this to me? 

After being lonely for so long, why would he tempt me so?  Why would he tease me with a man who I was so instantly connected to yet so far out of reach?  What good did that do me? Especially if God was going to only allow me to look at him though a fuzzy fog.  I felt gypped, robbed, and really wished someone would tell me what the hell was going on.

Anger boiled up inside me at the prospect of having to go back to my island all by myself when I just wanted a few more minutes with the stranger who had waltzed directly into my heart. 

I must have drifted off for a while because it felt like in the blink of an eye when I heard Alistair ask, “I hope you’re well rested.  You have quite a busy day today.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Okay- that’s chapter one.  And relax, I know after my recent string of fics about the afterlife, this one isn’t going to be angsty or make you cry.  At least I don’t think so.  
> 
> As always, leave me your thoughts, theories, and questions.  If I can answer them without spoiling the story, I will.  The story is complete & I'll be posting all the chapters as I can.


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